


the death of God

by greedlings



Series: badthingshappenbingo [6]
Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Dying thoughts, Final Thoughts, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:42:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23271922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greedlings/pseuds/greedlings
Summary: Light Yagami had worked for so long, eyes on a future in which he was God. In which he couldn't die.Faced with his mortality, however, he cannot seem to let go of the past.
Series: badthingshappenbingo [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643200
Kudos: 5





	the death of God

**Author's Note:**

> so this is super disjointed and franky i'm surprised it's readable but i have many thoughts about light and this was the result of me slapping those thoughts on a page at three in the morning. just to be warned the perspective is kinda weird ('ve been thinking of it as like. someone looking through light's brain as he's dying kinda thing)
> 
> anyways this is fic number six of my badthingshappen bingo card, 'bleeding out.' if you want to req a fic check out my pinned tweet @/greedlings_ !

Light wants to become god.

The Death Note gives him the power to achieve this, to become all-powerful; he is the pesticide, the poison that will kill the puny maggots he rules over. From the safety of his friendly room, its four walls protecting him from the vermin that surround him on all sides like a plague, he can ascend to his rightful place among the stars and the clouds.

But more than any incredible powers that his ascension would offer him, the most tantalizing part, the part that Light yearns for with all of his heart, is immortality. To live forever, heart strong and true and untouchable. Gods cannot die, not the type of god that Light yearns to become.

Because Light is so very afraid of death.

He always has been, he supposed; even on the safest streets, even in the bustling crowds of the train, even in the sanctuary of his own room, Light was afraid. There was always a  _ what if _ —what if someone were to tail him, waiting for the perfect time, for Light to be alone and hidden from prying eyes, to strike? What if one of the people, one of the crowd, one of the nameless people that Light would never know was the person with a gun tucked under his jacket, waiting for the perfect time to claim the crowds life for themself? What if someone were to invade his sanctuary, to break through the walls that had heals so firm for so long, leaving Light at their mercy?

There were too many unknowns. Too many things that could go wrong, too many people on the brink of snapping, and too many people who had already crossed the line. 

The Death Note gave Light the ability to make the world safe. Light could create his perfect world, where he no longer felt the need to glance warily over his shoulder as he walked the streets of Tokyo, or felt his heart stop when a stranger across from him on the subway made a suspicious movement. A world where he could sleep peacefully, knowing without question that he would wake up in the morning. 

And that was what Light had done, right? He had weeded out the evils of the world, exterminating them one by one until the world was safe. No one  _ dared _ to invite the wrath of Kira. Of God. 

Light was a god. Light was God. He had finally ascended, had finally become what he was supposed to be.

So why was he here? Where even  _ was _ here? Where had his legs taken him as he fled from Daikoku Wharf? He was on a stairwell, he knew that much; he felt the sharp metal grips of the stairs dig into his back as he writhed, doing his best to stay afloat on the sea of his own blood.

But he was not a part of that sea. The steady  _ drip, drip, drip _ of his blood seeping through the stair and pooling on the floor—that awful sound that, in his despair, sounded to Light like the ringing  _ tick, tock, tick, tock _ of the fleeting seconds of a clock—his only semblance of separation from the awful red sea growing on the cement below his broken body. 

Light had faced death many times throughout his ascension. His first targets had hit the hardest of the many names Light had written; their deaths were ingrained in his memory as the beginning of something wonderful, but deep down they were Light’s first true encounters with his deepest fear. 

Otoharada Kurou had been distant when Light had written his name, just a name and a face on his television screen, but Shibuimaru Takuo had been so close when he met his end. Light remembered everything from that moment; the gore of his crash that Light had penned, the bile rising in his throat as he watched, the fear and adrenaline that coursed through his body like fire in his veins as he ran.

Those deaths, Otoharada and Shibuimaru, had been the start of something wonderful. 

Those deaths, Otoharada and Shibuimaru, had been the beginning of a dark spiral that Light had been trapped in before he wrote the first stroke. That spinning, endless vortex that Light could never be free from again.

The wet, viscous sound of Light’s blood persisted, slowly counting the passing seconds. Light shouldn’t  _ be  _ here. He was a  _ god _ , for fucks sake. He shouldn’t  _ be  _ here.

L had been a fool, but watching the light fade from his eyes was a wound that never quite healed. Light dreamt about that moment, about that second where Light had clearly seen the line between life and death. L had lived Light’s greatest fear, and Light had watched as it overtook his rival.

But Kira had won the battle. Light’s fears had no foundation now; the only obstacle in the path to Kira’s utopia was gone, and he intended to walk along that path to the end of eternity. 

Kira was dead now, bested by Near and betrayed by his closest ally, his godly robes torn to shreds by his devoted follower. It was only Light now.

And Light was scared. 

Soichiro had left the deepest tear in the fabric that separated Kira from Light, that final push that led him truly to his madness. It was only Light in that moment, that awful second where the life left his father's eyes. It was only Light that felt the hit, the shot of fear that his heart pumped through his veins like blood. For the first time, Light had been alone when death had knocked on the door of someone near to him. He had no Kira to drown his fear of death. Kira’s lies of ascension and immortality could not touch him in that sterile land where Light’s father's hand slowly went limp clutched between his own.

Light’s breathing was laboured, each breath searing the edges of the holes in his body. A sob fought to escape Light’s lips, but he fought back, and though his body was riddled with holes he still had the strength to overpower. He needed that energy, that extra push. He needed to  _ live _ . 

He couldn’t die. Not now. He was  _ Kira _ . He had accomplished so much, had rid the world of evil, had created a perfect utopia waiting for his claiming of its throne.

_ You’d be the only evil left _ .

It had been so long ago that Light had heard those words—why were they echoing through Light’s quieting mind, why now?

_ Drip.  _

_ Drip.  _

_ Drip.  _

Light’s breathing slowed even further, and he struggled against himself. 

He couldn’t  _ die _ . He still had so much to do.

He  _ couldn’t  _ die. He was the god of the new world.

_ He _ couldn’t die. Kira was God. 

A weak whimper escaped from Light’s lungs, a quiet, panicked thing that did nothing but make Light wish he could cry. His vision was fading. He couldn’t move.

He didn’t want to die.

**Author's Note:**

> comments are always appreciated <3<3
> 
> you can find me on tumblr @/greecllings and on twitter @/greedlings_


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